Always The First One To Cry
by M. D. Jensen
Summary: Charlie Weasley, postOotP.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of this stuff, mmmmkay?

And I know Charlie's in Romania in book five, but let's just say that after that, he comes back. And I don't know how old Charlie really is, but in this he's 23. That can't be that far off, can it?

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Always The First One To Cry

It was an unusually cold midnight in June and, although he would adamantly deny it to all those who questioned the next morning, Charlie Weasley was sitting cross-legged on his bed, crying into his burn-scarred palms. Not that anyone would be rude enough to say anything, but whenever anyone was heard crying late at night in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, everyone assumed it to be either Harry, who certainly had enough to cry about, or Charlie, who really didn't. Charlie hadn't lost his father (however close he had come), and although Sirius hadn't been Harry's father, he was close enough. Charlie was just a Recruiter for the Order. Charlie didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders. And yet, Charlie had always been the first of the Weasley boys to break down in tears when something happened, and a lot had happened these past few months.

Bill was too held-together to cry. Sure, he looked rebellious, and a stranger would surely question anyone who said this, but Bill was always the Protector, never needing protection. When word had come a few years ago about Ginny being taken into the chamber of secrets, Charlie had cried for what seemed like forever, and Bill had simply sat there and let him, never letting Charlie see his own tears. See, Bill was much too held-together to cry.

Percy simply didn't show weakness. In his eyes, it was wrong. Actually, Percy was hesitant, it seemed, to show any feeling, negative or otherwise. That just wasn't him. Nothing made him laugh; nothing made him cry. Percy didn't show any feeling at all, and, traitorous git that he was, Charlie still sometimes envied his younger brother that. See, Percy simply didn't show weakness. 

Fred was ever the optimist, it seemed. He was the first to explain how everything would work out, and then take everyone's mind off their problems by transforming their hair into worms (which, although not the best of solutions, certainly distracted them.) Charlie hated that look Fred would get in his eyes whenever something didn't turn out right in the end; it was a lost, haunted look, as though he felt personally betrayed whenever anything bad happened to anyone. But the look was fleeting, soon replaced by a grin. See, Fred was ever the optimist.

George tried not to cry too much; he fancied himself the hero. George wasn't as held-together as Bill, as carefree as Fred or as stony as Percy, and yet when anything happened, he was the first to go fix it. He couldn't stand injustice, he hated it, and though he did cry a little more than his twin, he still didn't cry very easily. Charlie knew that George would never just sit there as he, Charlie, was now. George would be out there, saving someone. Making it better. See, George tried not to cry too much; he fancied himself the hero.

Ron wasn't really that good at feeling, or letting other know if he felt. Maybe he just wasn't used to feeling anything strong enough to show. But to put it frankly, Charlie was usually sure Ron had feelings, but often enough he wondered…. A tiny glitter of pain would drift into Ron's sleepy eyes, then fade right away, as though it wanted to express itself but couldn't. Charlie often wondered if Ron was very strong, or very innocent. Maybe he was both. Either way, Ron never cried. See, Ron wasn't that good at feeling, or letting others know if he felt.

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And what the hell am I? Charlie thought ruefully, admonishing himself for being weak, but also quite unable to stop the tears from falling out from his eyes, between his fingers and onto his bedsheets. He wished he could be strong, or stony, or optimistic, or heroic… hell, sometimes he even wished he couldn't feel anything, or maybe he could be like Ron, and not recognize his grief…. But no, he just _had_ to be the crybaby. 

__

But, another voice added, _there's a lot to cry about, isn't there?_

And though none of it had happened to him, Charlie wasn't crying for himself at all. 

He cried for Sirius, who had so abruptly met his end. He cried for Harry, who had lost a father and friend all in one. He cried for Remus who, in Bill-like fashion, seemed determined to be strong for everyone else. He cried for all his brothers who couldn't (or wouldn't) and he cried for his sister Ginny, who was far too young witness this much pain. 

But really, there was never an age at which this much hurting was acceptable. Not Ginny's 14, not Dumbledore's 111. And no where in-between. And Charlie himself was only 23, just barely an adult, after all. And still sitting here crying like he was eight years old again, and Ron had stopped breathing a few days after birth. Crying like he was 14 years old again and his girlfriend Monica had died just before the Yule Ball. Crying like he was 20 years old again, and his baby sister might he gone forever…

He knew it was childish. He knew it was pointless. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't. See, Charlie had always been the first of the Weasley boys to break down in tears when something happened.

And a lot had happened these past few months. 

~*~*~

Hey, I'd be really happy if you guys could just leave a review? Tell me if my descriptions of the Weasley's meet your criteria; I think I pretty much stuck to the public opinion on most, but I know this is a pretty different Charlie than you might be used to… I was just getting sorta fed up with Remus and Harry ruminating over book five (though I did two of those fics myself) they're getting old, so I wrote this… please tell me what you think, maybe I'll expand? (a big MAYbe), but if enough people like it…

PeaceLove&Sci-fi

Trip


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